#// nez come save your mom

[fatedefyd]

   @qicixian​​ wrote :  HELPPPPP i cant wait for lady yin to call wukong unpoggers ... lady yin calling nezha her little scrinkly meow meow okay im cackling

   yin vc :  keep that cringe-ass pisshead away from my little blorbo

[takadasaiko]

Home from the War: Chapter Fifteen

FFN II AO3

Summary: The two teams work to find a way into St Regis' compound only to find it's no safer outside than it is inside.

Chapter Fifteen: Angles

He could still remember the call that had come through to tell him that they had Raymond Reddington in custody. As the lead agent on the case, he had thought that meant that they were finally in the home stretch. Donald Ressler couldn't have known what was coming. The changes and the decisions that would be thrust upon him. He had bent his morals to the point of breaking and done things that he would have made him sick just a few short years ago. This task force had changed him. He had risked and he had sacrificed, and there were many nights he had tossed and turned, unable to sleep with the question hanging over his head on if it were worth it.

Tom might not be Reddington, but Ressler was still bending what he knew was right for the goal ahead and he hated it. He knew he should have expected it. Halcyon prided themselves on being able to do what they claimed the government agencies wouldn't or couldn't, and maybe they did, but letting Katarina Rostova in to interrogate Franks left him with a sour taste in his mouth. He wondered what he would have to give on once they were inside the compound and after they got back out.

"You about ready?"

Ressler turned, Liz's voice drawing his attention. Her expression immediately sobered and he wondered if he looked as torn as he felt.

"You okay?"

He cleared his throat. "Yeah. I have SWAT on standby, but…" He pulled a steadying breath in and met her eyes. "I know everyone has a slightly different angle on this."

"Ress, you know you can trust Tom."

Ressler snorted. "Trust is a stretch, but it's not him I'm worried about. I know what he wants out of this." He caught her gaze and held it. "I know what we want, what the Hargraves want, but the only person that we don't know what she's after is your mom."

Liz's lips tugged downward at that and her gaze shifted past him to the empty room for just a moment. "She's helped us."

"Reddington used to help us too, but he always got something for it. What's Katarina getting?"

There was a long moment of silence and Liz shook her head. "I wish I knew, but she hasn't shared. She won't, and right now we don't have time to question it. We need her on this."

"Then look me in the eye and tell me you trust her."

Liz met his eyes. "I trust her not to hurt the people I care about."

Ressler sighed. "It's like dealing with Reddington all over again."

That pulled a smile from her and Liz reached forward and touched his arm. "Good thing that the Task Force's deal isn't with my mother then."

Everything had started to stiffen up on the short plane ride to upstate New York and it was everything Tom could do to find a way to loosen his abused muscles without finding new ways to hurt through other injuries. Gramble had forced a low dosage pain killer on him. It wasn't the first time he had used it to jump back into the field early after an injury, and it was the only one that he'd found didn't leave him in a dangerous fog that could get him and those around him killed. The last time he'd used it, ironically enough, had been when Gina had had him shot and he had sought her out to offer peace.

Now he was chasing her down to save her life. He would get St Regis' files, be able to help the kids still in the program, and the Task Force would get dangerous killers, but as he stood ready to infiltrate the school that had trained him to do what he was so damn good at, he had to admit to himself that saving Gina was a goal he wouldn't give on. They'd watched each other's backs for years. It was time for him to pull her out of the fire one last time.

A hand curled into his from where Liz was seated next to him in the back of the van that would get the team close enough to get in. The plan was in place. Best case scenario meant that Howard, Aram, and Dumont would be inside of St Regis' systems by the time that they arrived, using Franks' access code to gain control. The more likely scenario had them all splitting ways as soon as they got close enough. Tom and Samar would slip in through an old, hidden entrance that Tom knew so that they could boost the signal and open up access to the security systems. Once they had that, the others would enter in pairs at three different locations around the compound: Nez and Solomon, Scottie and Katarina, and Liz and Ressler. All in, they had digital copies of the layout that Tom and Gina had gotten them early on in this mess and they would move through until they reconvened at the offices where Franks had confirmed that Bud's access point remained.

"What are you thinking?" Liz asked quietly.

Tom loosed a breath and brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "That this may be the only group of people capable of pulling this off."

"If you have any doubts about it, now's the time to pull out."

"We're past that," he murmured softly. "We've been past that."

There was a long moment and Liz leaned in, her shoulder against his and he felt the touch calm his nerves. "Do you think they ever would have left us alone? If you hadn't -"

"Picked a fight with them?"

"You said it, not me," his wife chuckled and Tom turned to press a kiss to her dark hair.

"The threat would have always been there."

They both looked to where Katarina Rostova had been sitting quietly and there was something unsettling in her blue eyes. Liz straightened next to him. "What do you mean?"

Katarina's lips turned downward and her gaze flickered to Tom. "They found an operative that made them more money in his tenure there than any other had. That's not something they let go of and certainly not someone they just let walk away. They would have found a way to make you pay, even if not directly."

Tom watched his mother-in-law for a long moment, letting the words sink in. She was right. Even if they weren't right in front of them, the threat would always be there hanging over his head and his family's. The exposure that came from being Halcyon's CEO was a double edged sword that both protected him and put him back on the map of old enemies. It wasn't anything that he hadn't thought of before, but it felt heavier coming from her. More deadly somehow.

"I guess we better finish this then," Liz said firmly at his side and he felt the van pull to a stop.

Howard felt a tug at his sweater, breaking his concentration from where he had been working through every path he could find to get into St Regis' systems. He turned, finding a pair of blue eyes so like his son's on him and his little granddaughter hadn't let go of the material yet. "I wanna help."

It took half a beat longer than it should have for Howard to pull himself out of his focus and process the words.

"Not right now, Princess."

"Mr Hargrave? They're in," Mojtabai called out and Howard grunted.

"And we're not. How close?"

The FBI's technician pulled his headset fully off. "The signal's not strong enough."

They had wondered if that would be the case. "Dumont, let Tom know we're going to plan B."

Agnes tugged again, her nose crunched up and determined pout in full swing. "I wanna help Mama and Daddy."

Howard felt some of his resolve slip. "It might be scary," he warned her softly.

"I'm brave."

"Yes you are,"

He agreed as he picked her up and set her on his lap. "Don't tell your dad when he gets home."

She made a motion like she was zipping her lips and settled in. Howard reached for the headset and heard his son's voice as he fit it in place.

"We're on our way in."

Howard pulled in a breath and tightened his hold on his granddaughter. He hoped this was worth the risk they were taking.

They didn't meet any opposition down the long tunnel that Tom hadn't set foot in since his teenage years, and as he and Samar drew closer to their entrance into the compound he made a mental note to thank her when this was all over for being the one person not to question his ability to get this particular job done. His wife's teammate had given him a quick look up and down when they'd decided she would accompany him in to help boost the signal for Howard and the others and simply accepted it. It had been a relief, and one he hadn't expected. If he said he was good for it, he was good for it.

He heard an amused snort of laughter from her as they neared the grate that would lead them up into the old locker rooms that had been turned into storage a decade before and Tom looked back. Samar motioned at the old, rickety looking stool leaned against the tunnel wall. "I'm just picturing a teenage Tom Keen slipping out of school. You were prepared."

"I wasn't the only one that used it," he said and scooted the old stool into place so that he could reach grate and move it from its place. He pulled in a deep breath. This was going to hurt.

Tom pulled himself up, the strain on his ribs and the jagged gash that Masterson had left in him forcing him to clench his jaw so that no more than a grunt of pain escaped him. He dragged himself onto the floor and laid there a moment, catching his breath as Samar followed much more quickly behind him. She shot him a look and he rolled, getting to his knees and then to his feet. He would have time to rest later.

Samar lifted a hand to the comm in her ear. "Aram, can you read me?"

"You're back!" came the excitable voice from the other end. "Are you inside?"

"Yeah," Tom answered quietly, one arm wrapped around the protective vest he was wearing and he forced his voice to remain steady. "We'll let you know as soon as we've got the boost in place."

"We'll know, son," Howard's voice filtered over. "Be careful."

"Both of you," Aram pressed.

Tom saw a small, fond smile tug at Samar's lips. "We will," she assured him and the voices went quiet over the comm. The connection was there and solid enough for them to reach the outside world should things go badly.

The old lockers were filled with equipment, but nothing there would be useful. Tom motioned to the door and they slipped out into a hallway he knew well. They were a building over from where they needed to be, but it wouldn't be until they had to cross over that they would likely run into trouble.

Neither agent or operative said a word as Samar followed his lead silently and quickly through the empty halls. They reached the door and Tom risked a look through a window to the side. Samar flattened herself, gun ready, on the other side of the door, her eyes on him and waiting for the signal.

"The next building over houses the security systems," he said quietly.

"My guess is that the security'll be a bit heavier than a storage unit."

"You got it. Ready?"

She gave him a curt nod and they moved together across the empty, open space, but not to the door with the security camera hidden away and aimed right at it. Instead they eased around, quickly and quietly, to a window along the southern side without any direct surveillance on it. Samar pulled a small device that Dumont had provided them with and stuck it to the glass, taking a step back as it buzzed and the window cracked before shattering, the glass raining down on the grass outside and the room inside.

They slipped in one at a time, both ready for whatever was on the other side of the window.

Tom had never spent a lot of time in this building. The rows and rows of servers weren't his forte, and now that he looked at them he was glad that they had the others in their ears to walk them through what needed to happen.

"Okay, we're in," Samar whispered into the comm.

Dumont was the one to answer this time. "Awesome. Tom-Tom, you got the map?"

Samar shot him a questioning look and Tom grinned, holding up a round, metal ball the size of a tennis ball. He rolled it out into the middle and it stopped itself, a sensor popping out the top and sweeping the room.

Tom turned to Samar. "It'll give them an up-to-date map of the room."

She didn't seem to hear him, though, and before Tom could turn to follow her gaze that had snapped to something behind him she was leveling her gloc, the shot going off. A St Regis guard hit hard, but others would be right behind him.

"What was that?" Aram demanded in their ears.

"Trouble," Tom answered and leveled his own weapon as another came around the corner.

"Hold 'em off. I don't have a full rendering," Dumont said urgently.

"Easy for you to say on that end of it," Tom growled, another shot going off as he and Samar jumped in opposite directions, taking cover amongst the towers.

"Okay… almost…. Gotcha. You're on the wrong end."

"Of course we are," Samar grumbled, popping up over her cover to take another shot.

"Just get us there, Dumont. Aram, you ready to walk Samar through it?"

"Yeah… yeah, I can walk her through it."

Tom looked over, a silent promise to cover her and Samar leapt to her feet, Dumont's instructions filtering over the comm.

Gina looked over to where Geffroy had been distracted by something on the tablet on her desk. There was something in the movement that struck her, but it was difficult to tell with a man like him. He turned a hard look on her. "Your play backfired."

"How so?" Gina asked lightly, but the unease that had been creeping up taking a firmer hold on her as he turned the tablet around and she saw Jacob and one of his wife's agents. Her expression hardened immediately.

"I would have thought Phelps would have been smarter than to deliver himself to our doorstep," Tallert murmured.

"Idiot probably didn't even know we needed him," Masterson grumbled.

"He won't have come alone," Tallert pointed out. "Do we know how many he has with him?"

Geffroy was already on his way towards the door. "No, but keep her in lockdown here. If Phelps comes we'll need them both in this room anyway."

Tallert shot him a dark look. "Where are you going?"

"To handle the situation."

Geffroy didn't give Tallert a chance to question him again. He was gone, and as Gina turned her gaze on her former teacher he met her gaze. "Don't be a fool, Gina."

"McCready made plenty of bad calls with Jacob, but he knew we made a hell of a team." She tilted her head, her lips stretching into a dangerous smile. "You've lost, Tallert. The question is if you want to get out alive or not."

Masterson snorted behind her and she saw the shift in Tallert's gaze, and in that moment, she didn't think he'd stop her. He'd ride it out to see who came out on top, and Gina didn't have a question about that. She landed a hard kick into Masterson's gut, sparking the fight she had been waiting for.

Liz shifted in her position outside of the campus. They'd taken cover in the woods there, waiting for the signal from Aram and the others that Tom and Samar had gotten in and gotten their signal booster in place. Once they did they would get the doors open and could control the security feeds and any number of other gadgets inside of the compound. It gave them their best chance.

"He'll be fine." She turned, finding Nez's gaze on her and the other woman smirked. "Your husband's a stubborn bastard."

"I'll second that," Solomon grumbled on her other side.

"Believe me, I know it," Liz answered softly. "I should have gone in with him."

"You two would have worried more about each other than the mission," Katarina pointed out from her place next to Scottie who looked just as worried as Liz felt.

Liz watched her mother carefully. She still didn't know for sure why she was there. To protect her? Maybe, but it was strange that she would be so determined to throw herself into this if she didn't have a piece of information that the rest of them didn't have. Just like Reddington. Those two must have been one hell of a match in their day.

Any question that might have found its way from her lips was instantly swallowed at the sound of a gunshot deeper in the words, the same direction that Ressler had stepped away towards not too long before. Liz was on her feet and racing towards the sound with low protests following after her.

TBC

Notes: I had some fun with infiltrating St Regis because I didn't actually expect to do it when I started out. I knew this was all going to come to head at the end and there'd be a battle of some kind, but the idea of sending them in seemed impossible. The story had other ideas, as stories do. At least I got to work with some fun match ups to send them in.

The last few weeks have been non-stop busy. I took another step towards deciding if I'm moving out to LA this summer, had a major appliance break (and I'm still dealing with that fun bit), and I wrapped up the first drafter of the rewrite of my pilot episode. I have a few people looking at it now for feedback and there's the briefest moment of reprieve... go figure all I want to do is work on it more lol

This story is almost done though. I'm working on the final chapter I think.

Next Time: Samar and Tom work to get everybody in, Scottie has to trust Katarina, and Gina fights for her life. Fair warning, the next chapter gets pretty violent. Oops?

[oldmaidwhovian]

Long-winded Story About A Bad Back

My shoulder is better, but now my sciatica is playing up a bit. Can't win for losin', lotsaluck. I first hurt my back getting run over by a horse at work. I was a groom at a boarding and lesson stable in Ballston Lake, NY in my early 30's. I gave up my nice office job to work there, because, A. I was turned down for a VERY nice promotion doing editing for the telephone directory publisher that I was working for, because of a test employees were required to take to receive any promotions within the company. So, while I had gotten one of the highest English scores (reading and grammar) in the company's history--I was told this by the big boss--who was very polite and regretful, that I also got the lowest math score they've ever had--even tho' there was NO math involved in that particular position. I would later find out 10 years on while attending Adirondack Community College (now SUNY Adirondack) that I had a math disability. And B. I love horses, and working with them--even for minimum wage and no benefits, was very literally a dream come true. And I didn't have to dress up for work anymore, haha. So I went to work, weekdays 5 days a week, starting around 6 or 7am and working to 3 or 4 in summer, till 5 or 6 in winter---ice and snow and Arctic cold made more work for me. Banging the ice out of 40+ water buckets and then putting them back and refilling them was time consuming, and putting turnout blankets on the horses, and maneuvering the wheelbarrow through the snow and ice...one time the iced up narrow wooden ramp I pushed the wheelbarrow up to the manure spreader caused me to slip and fall in, covering me with frozen horse poo. I wasn't hurt and simply got out of there and carried on, albeit with frozen muck in my hair---my hat fell off-- and on my jacket and jeans. I didn't see most of the boarders or customers coming for dressage lessons---it was a dressage stable. Dressage is sort of like ballet for horses. So I was surprised to see a new horse in a stall one day---a large pony, actually. I was later told that the the little girl who rode her was your typical 'obnoxious'  spoiled brat---so glad that I didn't work weekends when she was there riding. And she owned--or rather her mother owned, a POA (Pony Of the Americas) mare. POA's are just small pony-sized versions of appaloosas---the spotted horses first bred by the Nez Perce tribe in Idaho. I hate appaloosas---they are prone to have bad attitudes towards anyone but their owners or riders.. If horses could behave like entitled spoiled brats---that's almost every one I knew.Well..save 2 lesson horses I had, Crisco--a western horse I rode when I was 12, and Happy Appy, an English lesson horse I used one summer when I was 18. But handling aps as a groom....yikes. When I was a senior in high school, '78-'79, I spent a work-study program at Mill Pond Stables (now Dutch Manor), about 5 or 6 miles from school. One of the horse--Drift's Foxy Lady, was a champion Appaloosa owned by the record and electronics  company, RCA. Well, one time the stable owner, my boss, Gary Fineman, was finished working Lady, and handed off to me. And she took off, dragging me with her by the lead rope down the barn aisle, while I heard Gary laughing at me---I guess he wanted to teach me a lesson about controlling fractious horses---or it was a prank. Well he stopped laughing when the rope slipped through my hands and that 30,000 dollar champion mare bolted out the open barn door. Then he started cussing at me. So yeah, not fond of handling appaloosas. Fast forward to winter of '91 and the bratty girl's bratty POA mare---never did find out its name. I was leading it back to the  new barn with an indoor arena attached to it, (there were 3 separate barns). Well, I had two horses I was bringing in, one to the 'upper barn' and the brat to the newer 'lower' barn with the indoor. I got the first horse in it's stall near the barn door, when the stable's phone rang. As I turned back to answer it, SLAM! That darn mare did a 180 turn on a dime and ran right into me, tossing  arse over teakettle, knocking off my glasses and one boot. Cussing under my breath---when I got it back, that is, I was pretty winded, I groped about for my glasses, found them...unscathed thankfully, put my boot back on, got up and ran out the door, hoping she wouldn't run down Schuber Road and get hit by a car. Fortunately the only other weekday employee, my boss, the stable manager, Christine, caught the brat. And yelled at me, telling me off for letting her get loose. She had four legs and weighed roughly 350 pounds and could turn on a dime and give you 5 cents change. I had 2 legs, weighed 145 and had empty pockets...meaning that I was uncoordinated and slow to move---compared to the bratty pony, anyway. Chris caught the mare and put it in its stall and I got told off. This was on a Friday, so after work I got some food from the Burger Woof near my home, ate, showered, and went to bed. The next day I took my mom shopping for groceries, and we went home---I'd moved back in with my mom by then. As I recall I did some laundry, watched some TV with my mom---we both liked the British comedies on public television on Saturdays nights. So, I went to my room, listened to some folk and jazz music for a while, then fell asleep---and woke a few hour later, literally screaming. My entire left leg and back was hurting with indescribable, excruciating pain. An ambulance ride followed, down to an ER in Albany---where I saw my cousin Lisa, who's a nurse there...(my Aunt Ruth was head ER nurse, but wasn't there.). I had left-sided sciatica---a pinched nerve. I had it bad. I had no medical insurance, so I was given pain killers and sent home. I  fell asleep on the sofa in my mom's family room. And didn't wake again until Tuesday. Went back to work on Thursday, because horse grooms don't get sick pay. I later, in '95, developed sciatica on my right side after moving my mom's washer and dryer into a moving truck by myself. It still bothers me to this day

[saintheartwing]

May the Force Be With You, Part 1

I’ve been meaning to do a story with my character Kendall for quite some time now, and at long last, I finally got a chance. So here’s the beginning of my little story. Enjoy!

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The noose is tight and heavy around his neck, feeling like a heavy snake constricting harder and harder with every passing moment. Jeers fill the air, foul, rotten smiles, disgusting-looking grins on face after face. How can a smile make someone look so, so much uglier? And it kept getting harder to breath. His lungs were burning, it’s as if someone stuffed newspaper inside them and set them on fire, and now they’re just slowly watching him die...and, well...they are. They tore off his beautiful blue jacket when he tried to run, and not a single one of them stopped to ask why someone like him had so many scars and cuts on his body.

Why would they? People like them...even some OF these “fine folks” had given him those ugly marks on his frame. He’d almost made it into the house to close and lock the door when someone got lucky and actually lasso’d him, yanking him down the front steps, and now...now they were hanging him in front of his own home. If this was only just a month ago maybe his father would be rushing out to save him, but no he’s on his own. He was vulnerable, and he had made it clear to others in his community he was gay. 

This was something they couldn’t accept. To them, it meant he’d been born morally blackened. It went against their beliefs in a just, fair God. And so such a blackened thing had to be gotten rid of. HE would have to be gotten rid of. God forbid his very presence make them question their faith a little. And God forbid some of them perhaps found the red-haired young man attractive, with his well-built frame. They had to kill their shame. 

Kendalll can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe.

He can’t...breathe…

Can’t...head...swimmy...spots...flaring up...before his...eyes…

Is that...a barbeque he smells…? Something’s cooking nearby? Why does it feel so much hotter all around-

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” 

The red-haired young man awoke with a horrific start. His hair was a mess, even more fringe flopping over his face than normal as he groaned and held his head in his hands, taking in deep, long breaths, trying to calm himself down. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth, and think of some calming scenery. A beach, long sand, the ocean stretching out before you. A huge, grassy valley. Fields of flowers. A soothing clearing in a deep forest with cute little woodland critters.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

“Okay...okay...okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.” 

Zachary Archimedes Cadence Kendall reached across from his bed, his thick, grey and white comforter blankets he slept in utterly soaked in sweat from his body as he grabbed hold of a bottle of water on a nearby bedstand, and a small bottle of pills. He popped the top open of both, and tossed a couple of little, tic-tac-sized, pastel blue pills into his mouth and sloshed them around with the water before giving a loud gulp. Then he put both the bottles away and stood up, walking to the bathroom and deciding to pour himself a relaxing bath.

He tossed in a “bath bomb” from the little cupboard he kept his medical and bathroom supplies in, and the bath began to fill up with soothing blue crystals as the water finished pouring and he eased himself in, taking a deep, long sigh. He felt disappointed in himself. He was sure he’d had the PTSD symptoms under control, he’d been taking the medication every single night and he hadn’t had a dream like that for months now. 

But...evidently not. He supposed that it was a relapse. He didn’t know what he expected, an attempted lynching wasn’t something most people would get over, not ever. But he should look at himself as lucky, he was alive. And despite the many scars and cuts and worst of all, the ugly, FOUL garroted ring around his neck that made it clear what had befallen him...he was alive. He was ALIVE.

And he had a big day today. Today, at long last, was his first day as head nurse at the free clinic on Nar Shadaa. 

He let out a yawn as he rose out of the bath and got himself dry, getting his clothing on. His favorite dark blue jacket, big and thick and kinda floppy, his camo pants, black shoes, he looked himself over in the mirror, his blue eyes a-shining. His kind, Logosian, were very similar to humans, save for the rather unusual shine in their eye. A white geam that faintly brimmed around the pupil, and when the light caught it, it seemed to make the pupil itself turn white. There were, of course, other advantages to being Logosian, including a tremendous control over every single part of your body in a way few others had…

It was that control that made him such a good nurse and a great assistant to Dr. Morgan, who ran the free clinic. Kendall was soon making his way down from his apartment, and down the street, the towering, dark structures of the back alleys of Nar Shadaa rising high around him. Occasionally a window would gleam as a light turned on, but for the most part, it was early morning and all was dark, almost like night itself. The streets were a dark grey color, only a few people walking around as hovercars soared overhead, streaking like small, gleaming little boxes.

The clinic was in a building a block away in a rounded-top little place, with a large sign that read “Morgan Medical Clinic” on the front in bright neon during the night. When the day came, it switched to a slightly gaudier color scheme, but it got people’s attention all the same. Through the revolving door Kendall went, passing by a few people in the waiting room outside, the secretary sighing as he looked over a chart that a black-eyed, green-skinned alien with small spikes a-jutting from his head and bulbous-tipped fingers had given to him. The secretary got a small pair of pince-nez glasses off his desk with a tentacle, the rather octopus-esque being examining the chart.

“Okay, this all looks good. You should be warned though sir, Rodanian medicine isn’t Dr. Morgan’s specialty.” “Luckily I know a lot about them.” Kendall remarked aloud as he stopped and turned back to pat the patient on the back. “I’ll be happy to help you, sir, once I get my uniform on.” He nodded and turned to the secretary. “It’ll be fine, Orville, I’ve got it.” The Rodanian’s tubular-esque mouth turned into a smile as he sat down, Orville giving Kendall a nod of his big, slightly rubbery head. Orville was a really sweet guy who’d worked at the Hutt palace for a good decade before losing his job because he was caught sneaking snacks the Hutts were allergic to into work. He’d been lucky to get away with all his tentacles intact. Now he worked for them, and thankfully, none of the nursing staff nor Dr. Morgan were allergic to “Poofy Bites”. 

Eager to get to work, Kendall headed into the small closet, getting on his uniform. Nice white gloves, shirt, pants, a facial mask, gloves, the whole shebang. And, of course, his little nametag. “Hi! I’m Kendall!” And TODAY...underneath that…

“Head Nurse”. Not “Nurse Practioner”. Head. Nurse. 

“I got a good, good feeling about today.” He thought to himself as he walked back to let the Rodanian from before come on inside the clinic officially, into one of the patient rooms. Dr. Morgan waved at him from across the way, in the next room. He was, at the moment, tending to a normal human teen who had some very unpleasant wounds. Luckily, the Killik doctor was very skilled.

Like all Killiks, he was insectoid in appearance, looking like a mix of coleoptera and hymenoptera. Big sort of beetle-esque backside, a faintly hornet-esque head with a mandibled maw, four arms with sharp claws, several antannae sliding back from his skull and with deep orange eyes with dark black pupils as he looked the brown-haired young woman over. “These are some very unpleasant wounds indeed, how did you say you got them?” He asked aloud. He couldn’t “speak” with his mouth, like most Kiliks, he communicated with a mixture of methods, inlcuding pheremonal and electromagnetic transmissions to similar aliens to his kind, and outright telepathy to others. “I...fell in the shower.” The woman mumbled. Dr. Morgan knew she was lying through her teeth. You didn’t have to be psychic to know when someone was lying. He had seen this sort of injury many times before. It was, without a doubt, abuse. But since she was so young, being only 13, he had to ask. “Is everything alright with your parents?” “My mom isn’t handling my father’s death well.” She said quickly. “He got killed at those protests a while back, the Dyad’s men found him at work and...look, can you just patch me up?” 

“It would appear you actually have some internal injuries, based on the scans. I will have to take more time than a simple application of Bacta.” He told her. 

Luckily for Kendall, HIS patient didn’t need internal surgery. He smiled at one of the other nurses, Nurse Therra, who helped him get the Rodanian into the chair in the patient room, the twi’lek’s floppy head tentacles sliding down past her red-skinned cheeks as she adjusted the chair. “There. Is that good?” “Yes, it feels very nice.” He said as she took the Rodanian’s temperature and Kendall looked over the chart the patient had.

“Okay, we’re going to do a simple blood test.” He told the Rodanian. “We’ll find the right dosage depending on the results we get back.” He added as he held up a small injector that would take a little blood from the patient just by pushing it onto his skin. “Now, you’re going to feel just a little PINCH. Are you ready?” He inquired softly.

The Rodanian nodded as Kendall patted his shoulder and then knelt down and applied it to his arm. Soon he was analyzing the blood as Dr. Morgan called Therra into the room with him, as well as Nurse Jane, “Painkiller Jane” as Kendall liked to think of her as because she was so good at applying anesthetics, and Nurse Lomi, another Gran like Jane. The two almost coulda been twins, it was scary how much the multiple-eye-stalk-having aliens looked alike. Nice, big, muscular build, same smile, they even wore similar clothing. 

It was a good thing that a lot of people came to the clinic lately. It showed a real need existed, that their work here was important. Especially with those awful protest injuries. People exercising their most basic of rights, the right of free speech, had been attacked. They’d first done meetings in the privacy of their own homes, then loosely organized gatherings, then finally in Nar Shadaa, out in the open. But the reactions from those who ran Nar Shadaa weren’t really pleasant at all. In the Outer Rim territories, dissent against people like Grakkus the Hutt or his compatriots was not tolerated. 

It didn’t help that the place was already a haven for outlaws who were just fine with the Hutt Clan offering money to basically beat the shit out of unarmed protestors...or to kill them. Hey, if your money was good...free speech, schmee speech. Luckily, most of the protestors had gotten away, much to the local commandant’s embarrassment. But just because most got away it didn’t mean they got away scott free, a lot of them had been very badly hurt.

Thank goodness for this clinic, and for Dr. Morgan. It was good work they did there, Kendall thought to himself. Had he still been on Logos, his people might have said he was doing God’s work, but Kendall didn’t much believe in God at all. He never really had, and never really would. Kendall put no real stock in things he couldn’t truly verify, be it a god, be it the Force, be it the innate goodness of people. He put his trust in those who earned it, and Dr. Morgan had earned his ten times over by being a wonderful employer and just a great, decent person. 

That wasn’t to say that Kendall didn’t sympathize with the protestors and their causes. He understood the philosophy of nonviolent resistance. And the strategy tended to work in the long run. The problem was the “long run” could take years, maybe even decades, and millions could die in the meantime. Yes, nonviolent resistance required more courage than combat, but honestly, armed resistance would be, in the end, what brought people like the Hutts and their compatriots, the “Dyad”, down. Kendall sometimes wondered if he should contact the resistance directly and get more involved, but he had a pretty good job here, and he was doing good work. So if it wasn’t broke...don’t fix it. 

“Okay, based on the results of the blood test, you definitely have a mild case of Nobliar’s Syndrome, so here…” Kendall began looking through the cupboard up above the table in “Patient Room 3”. “You’re going to want to take several of these. Two a day ideally, if you feel even worse, three.” He handed the Rodanian a bottle of pills and nodded. “Now listen, these will combat the symptoms and, also ideally, will allow your body to fight Nobliar’s Syndrome off. But if it gets worse, we’ll have to bring you in for a hardcore Bacta bath, and we’ll take the next necessary steps.” Kendall told him as he showed off a small little tank of Bacta, the colorless, viscous fluid slopping about in the tank. “What’s IN bacta anyway?” The Rodanian wanted to know as Kendall beamed, his eyes practically glowing.

“Oh, it’s fascinating! It’s a mix of red alazhi and kavam bacterial particles. You mix them together with ambori, and the particles seek out wounds and promote rapid tissue regeneration while preventing the emergence of scar tissue. It really is astounding.” “Miraculous, really.” “Nah, just science, my friend.” Kendall chuckled. “The “miracle” of modern medicine and thank goodness we use it over kolto. Kolto’s less effective, takes far longer to heal you. A kolto for your cuts, sure, but no more than that.” 

“Have you ever considered trying to get your throat healed with bacta, sir?” The Rodanian asked Kendall as Kendall inwardly cringed. He knew that, when people asked about his throat, most of them meant well, and were just legitimately concerned about what appeared to be a really awful, horrible injury. The tenets of the Logosian way of life had stressed that to forgive was divine. God, if you were willing, forgave all your sins. Well...he wasn’t God. So he didn’t have to forgive those motherfuckers who’d lynched him. 

“Thanks, but...I actually want to keep it. Sometimes you want the scars.” He remarked as he led the Rodanian out of the room, and down the hallway to the waiting room, noticing something very odd. Orville was slightly quivering in fear and emanating a clear sense of nervousness, all the other patients were gone, and a slightly irritated-looking human woman with brown hair tied back into a small ponytail with dark brown eyes and two earrings in her left ear was standing there in the doorway. She had her hands on her hips and she looked very impatient indeed, and was wearing a white shirt with a dark brown vest, a pair of pants that didn’t reach all the way down to the top of her darker boots, a thick belt loaded up with various pouches, and a small pack on her back. She had armbands on as well, the same color as her dark brown belt, and she tilted her head a bit as she looked at Kendall. She looked VERY familiar, and yet, Kendall couldn’t quite place her. He was good with faces, but not with names, a problem he’d had for years and years.

“You’re a nurse? Ah, Head Nurse. Can you let the doctor know I need to see him immediately?”

“Oh, uh...he’s rather busy with a patient who has internal injuries. I can treat you though, depending on the nature of your injury, ma’am.” Kendall offered as the Rodanian headed out the door and Orville gulped.

“Kendall, she really, REEEEAAALLY wants to see the doctor.” “Indeed. Still…” The woman looked him over. “You might suffice. I happen to have my own internal injuries, I was regrettably badly wounded in a fight and my stomach feels as though it’s on fire.” She said, her voice having a faint, almost fancy-sounding accent to it. Kendall thought, very faintly, he could feel a strange, weird tingling sensation in the back of his head, that was creeping over his fingers as he led her into the patient room. She put her little pack down as she sat in the chair, and he began to scan her over

“Oh my, this is terrible!” He proclaimed, looking mortified. “Yes, your...your stomach and your intestines are…” Kendall was positively stunned. “However are you still alive, ma’am?” “I’m a very skilled healer in my own right, Logosian. Its not a miracle, it’s my own skill. But I can’t do THIS, unfortunately. I could only keep myself alive through sheer...well, I suppose you’d call it willpower. But there’s a limit even to that. So, I need your assistance posthaste.” She insisted as Kendall nodded and quickly got out an anesthetic from the closet. “No. No, no, I want to be AWAKE for this.” “Ah, I wouldn’t call it a miracle, ma’am. I don’t believe in the like. As for the medicine here, I can...ease the dosage so it doesn’t knock you out, but you’ll still feel a lot of pain even with the dosage level.” Kendall admitted. “I mean, if I don’t use a full dose, it’ll feel like your insides are being squeezed and kneaded...because, frankly, I’m going to have to do that to get them back in their proper place!” The woman looked surprised that Kendall was atheistic, most of the galaxy knew the Logosian people as ridiculously religious. This was very unusual. But before she could ask about this oddity, the pain flared up in her anew as she cringed. “No higher dosage. I want. To be. Awake.” She insisted as Kendall nodded and held up the injector, giving her a smaller dose of the anesthetic. The woman’s eyelids fluttered as she laid back in the chair, Kendall quickly getting his facial mask on, and pulling out tools from the nearby drawer built into the counter to his left. 

A laser cutter would be what he’d use to open up her body to begin repairing the internal injuries. He bit his lip, carefully, slowly making the proper cuts as the woman chewed on her own lip, gripping the handles of the chair tightly and cringing. “ERGH...k-keep it up…” She insisted. “I can...take it.” The stomach was soon opened up, layers of flesh peeled back. It was truly terrible, obviously someone had tried to stab the woman and as a result of her attempt to heal the injury, her organs were where they shouldn’t be. It was as if she was trying to stop the bleeding by making a tourniquet within her very body. This was going to be immensely tricky. 

He got his Bacta ready as he began slowly, carefully unwinding the intestines, spraying Bacta every once in a while. His grip was astoundingly steady, his eyes slightly narrowed as he peered into her insides. Gently does it, he thought to himself, her frame shuddering as she cringed, sweat dribbling down past her cheeks, her forehead. She was moaning in pain, and trying in vain to hold back the clear tears she wanted to shed. 

Luckily, he was nearly done, after what seemed like HOURS, he’d finally gotten the organs in their proper place as he applied the Bacta spray again, and then pulled out the clear culprit...a knife, foul, twisted and with little spikes atop the blade. Ah ha, that’s what had done it. “C-Careful, it’s got a trap on it, don’t hold the handle close to the bottom-” The woman began to say. Kendall let go of the knife, but too late! SPLORGHK! A foul, wet nose rang through the air, his hand had been cut...cut right off! The woman stared in surprise, Kendall cringing, gripping his stump as he looked down at the ground and the ugly trick knife, an extra blade popped out of the end. “It got me that way too.” She muttered.

“Oh my, look at that, that’s no good. Hold on. You may want to look away.” Kendall said as he held up his stumpy hand section, the woman stunned. It...it wasn’t bleeding. The wound was clearly open, but neither the arm nor hand were bleeding. Kendall focused a bit, and the hand  then “walked”, skitting over to the knife, “kicking” it to the far side across the ground. “I’ll pick it up later.” He remarked as the hand leaped up, onto the chair, then THWUMP! Attached itself back onto his arm. 

It was as if it had never been cut off. The woman stared as Kendall smiled back at her. “I’m from the planet Logos, ma’am. An advantage to our bodies is that, if someone cuts a body part of, well, we can control such parts, and force them right back to us. It’s quite helpful, really.” He told her. “I’ve learned how to do operations and the like with one hand whilst the other goes to get supplies from the next room or tends to Dr. Morgan.” “Very intriguing.” The woman said as she cringed and rubbed her forehead. “At any rate, I need to be going. I seem to be just fine at the moment and I need to meet my girlfriend at a restaurant to celebrate our anniversary together-” She looked up at the clock on the wall. “Oh shit. OH SHIT. I’m going to miss brunch if I don’t get there NOW!” She yelled, immediately bolting out of the room, down the hall and out the door, Kendall sighing as he began to take off the gloves and to wash his hands, removing his facial mask before noticing that the woman had left behind her little pack. She had taken it off when she’d sat down. 

Maybe she had her wallet in there, some way to identify her so he could give her things back. At the same time though, it was his break! He’d been working at the woman for a long time and he could finally take a little break. He peeked outside…

Ah, Dr. Morgan was still hard at work. Guess he would be eating alone. Kendall took the bag with him after he took his uniform off in the bathroom nearby, and he entered the little lounge room, going to the replicator they had to order himself a little something for brunch as well. He sat down with his usual mixture of eggs, a fruit or two, some strips of bacon and a few nice slices of cheese but then he felt that odd, strange, tingling sensation rise in him.

He turned, looking at the little dark brownish/black pack the woman had had. Hmm. He was so tempted to look in there right now. Then again, the woman would probably be back once she realized she’d left it behind.

...maybe just a tiny peek. Just in case she didn’t come back. He wasn’t going to rob her, he’d never do anything like that. He’d just look for her wallet, maybe she had a phone in there and he could call her girlfriend up from that and say “Hey, your girlfriend left her stuff at Dr. Morgan’s clinic”. So he reached inside the pack, and-

He stiffened. He felt something. Something in a specific shape, a shape he had read about, seen in books, seen on the news and in movies and in plays and in games. A very, very familiar shape that was positively legendary. 

Kendall slowly lifted the dark black cylindrical thing out of the pack. It was about...30 centimeters long, a pommel cap at the bottom, a ringed top, a silver streak going down the middle of the cylinder, with an activating button, an adjuster for the length of the blade and for the power, and when he turned the thing on...out it came. A distinctly reddish blade of pure power. This was not a knife. This was not a simple sword. 

This was a lightsaber.

He held, in his hands, an actual lightsaber. He could feel a sense of real, true energy pulsating off of it, a reddish glow that coalesced and danced around the blade, and...the humming. It was faintly humming as he held it, almost...in a musical way? Such a strange note it was holding, strange, but not...not a bad sound. Just...different.

He felt so...strange holding it. He felt...good. He felt real good holding it. At peace in a way he’d never been before. It was as if he was hugging an old friend.

Then he realized what he should have thought of five minutes ago. A red lightsaber meant one thing and one thing only. This was not a Jedi weapon. This was a Sith weapon. He had unknowingly treated a Sith, and had probably saved her life. And he was damn, DAMN sure she’d be back for this lightsaber. She may have been in a rush to see her beloved, but no Jedi or Sith worth their salt was going to just abandon their lightsaber by accident, once she realized it was gone, she would come back for her pack, and her weapon, especially. 

What was he going to do? Maybe he should just put it back into the pack, put it back where it had been, and pretend he’d never gone into it. Maybe he should give it to the secretary, have Orville give it back to her, be all “Oh, you left this in our office, here’s your pack back” and she wouldn’t be the wiser-

Then he heard a distinct voice yelling loudly. “I know I left it here, where is it?”

Oh crap. 

She was here.

Crap. Crap. CRAP.

Kendall tried to calm himself as she raced into the room she’d been in, looking around before turning to see him, holding the lightsaber up. She stared at him, her mouth agape. 

“I just...thought I’d take a peek inside for your phone to call you up and…” Kendall trailed off as the Sith’s eyes narrowed and her mouth became taut.

“You’re going to give me that lightsaber NOW, and then you’re going to take that knife and stab yourself in the eyes. I know it can’t REALLY hurt you, but you need to be punished anyway for picking it up. And then you’re going to forget you ever saw me!” She said as a sensation of deep, hard crushing weight seemed to barrel down on his skull for a brief moment before Kendall spoke up.

“No.”

The woman stared at him. Now her furious, sinister visage was one of sheer, dumbfounded stunned surprise. “...I SAID...you’re going to give me my lightsaber, stab yourself with that knife on the table, and then forget you saw me!” “...no.” Kendall said again. “No, I don’t think I will.” He remarked as he frowned a bit. “...what the hell are you talking about?” “...so you’re immune to mind tricks.” She murmured aloud. “...well...that changes things a bit. Yes...yes, I can tell, you’ve got a distinct Force presence in you. It’s...rather marginal compared to me, really, but...it is most definitely there.” She intoned as she shook her head, and then she held up her hand. THWOOSH! Everything in the room that wasn’t bolted or nailed down in some way now was floating up! 

Kendall could no longer treat the Force as just a legend. While he knew some species were telepathic and telekinetic, finding the lightsaber and this sort of power, combined with that odd sensation he’d had on his skull and how he’d been feeling since he found the saber now made him more prone to believing that all he’d heard about the Force was real. And he needed to do something, and quick, if he wanted to survive against someone who could use the Force so easily.

She flung all of the objects at him, and it was as if all of time stood still. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears as he let loose a loud, terrifying, furious roar, and suddenly there was red slashing and slicing all around him with a swift series of motions. The humming melody from the saber throbbed in his ears as he felt his heart pumping all the more swiftly, and then, an instant later, the Sith was gazing at him in sheer, absolute shock.  

Every single thing she’d tossed at him had been cut into pieces. Now there was a real sense of fear faintly visible in her eyes that glimmered a bit, but her mouth became a taunt line as she reached into her vest, pulling out...another saber. 

With a KRSSSH noise that rang through the air, she activated the red blade and held it up at him. “So you’ve got some blade skill. Not bad. But let’s see how you handle against a true Sith!” She proclaimed as she launched herself at Kendall. Kendall barely got the lightsaber he had up in time to block her blow, a loud SSSSSSZTTT sound ringing through the air as the two sabers met.

They tried to force the other back, both Kendall and the Sith cringing, gritting their teeth, circling around each other. They broke the lock of blades, then swung again and again! Over and over the blades met each other, loud, hissing cries echoing as the lightsabers struck one another. The Sith did a backstep, flexing with one hand, trying to yank Kendall towards her, but his resistance extended even to that, he cringed hard, biting his lip as he held his ground. 

She kept trying to yank the blade out of his hand, it was as if Kendall was straining against a mighty tornado that was trying to yank him off his feet! But it wasn’t working. Then all of a sudden he sliced at the floor, and sent sparks flying up. She reeled back to avoid being blinded, and he leapt through the air, spinning, landing and doing a kick to knock her off her feet.

The Sith leapt up, avoiding his leg sweep, slashing with her saber. “HA!” She cried out, slicing his arm off, but then she remembered, a moment later, after a brief fleeting sensation of triumph slid into her…

Logosian.

His free hand grabbed hold of the nearby chair and he swung it at her as she, in turn, sliced down to cut it in half...as his arm, still holding the saber, tossed the lightsaber. SCHA-THWUUULPP!

It soared right through the air, stabbing her clear in the shoulder, and she let out a howl. It was the same shoulder on the same arm she held her current saber in,and Kendall leapt up into the air, catching the thrown saber, holding it up at her face as his arm hopped on back to him, and reattached itself with a faint POP. “A good thing these sabers cut so good and clean. I didn’t even get a BIT of shock from losing that off my body.” He remarked aloud. “Now. You’re...going to get out of this clinic. You’re going to leave. You’re going to forget you ever saw me. And you are never, ever going to come back.” “Oh, I don’t need to come back.” The woman snapped as she headed for the door. “...I can have my associates do it for me!” She proclaimed, as Kendall wiped his brow, his chest no longer feeling like his heart was screaming to leap free of his ribcage. Kendall made his way back to the waiting room, Orville fearfully looking over in his direction.

“Kendall...do you not know what you’ve done?” He inquired softly.

Kendall stared. “I know she’s a Sith. But I don’t think she’s going to come back. And if she does and with help, I’ll just report her to the authorities, I’m sure they’re not interested in Force wielder shenanigans causing trouble in their little corner of the galaxy, being a threat to their authority. After all, most Hutt HATE force-wielders.” “Not the Dyad!” Orville squealed as Kendall turned pale, and it felt like an icy knife was stabbed into the back of his spine. “Kendall, that was one half of the Dyad! I recognized her from when I used to work at the Hutt palace in the capital! She used to call me “Fishbait” and everything!” He squeaked out, covering his head in his many tentacles and groaning. “She’s Darth Raize! She and Darth Furiosa are the Dyad Sith that control Nar Shadaa along with the Hutts, and you just...you just tossed her out and stole her stuff, man! She’s going to come back with a whole squad of troopers and they’re gonna MURDER US!”

Kendall looked down at the lightsaber in his hand. So THAT was where he’d seen her. What a moron he’d been. What a total brain fart, how did you just FORGET the Dyad, he thought to himself. And now what?

The answer came in an instant.

“...well. Then I guess I’m just going to have to do something about the Dyad.” He decided in a quiet, scary tone, as a glint came to his eyes that had never been there before...

[takadasaiko]

Truth in the Lies: Light

FFN II AO3

Summary: It's the afternoon of Agnes' birthday party and Liz still isn't sure that Tom will make it home in time.

Light

The week had been utter chaos, beginning with a call in which Tom had told her that he had missed his flight when Kat Carlson had shown up bleeding at his hotel, and it had just spiraled from there. He was careful in what he told her over the phone, finding a new way to tell her that he'd give her the full story when he got home every time she asked if he knew what had happened to her. He was a master at evading without sounding like that was what he was doing, but she knew him. Something about this had him spooked, and she wasn't sure if it was just the residual paranoia of having been watched so closely or if there was more to it.

He had booked two flights home during the week that he'd missed, but he'd promised her he'd be home for Agnes' birthday. Now the day was here and Liz hadn't heard a peep out of him and she was torn between worry and irritation. She didn't want to call and interrupt the investigation. Last she had heard, Kat still hadn't woken up from the surgery that had just barely saved her life and Tom was hoping to be there when she did. If he wouldn't make it, she had to trust him that he would let her know.

Liz shifted the bags of party supplies and moved Agnes' stroller to the side so she could get to the door. "Almost home, sweet girl," she murmured, "and this afternoon you'll get to see your Uncle Don, Uncle Aram, and Aunt Samar. Are you excited?"

Agnes giggled, pulling a smile from her mother as she swung the door open, backing in with all the bags and the stroller. Now she just had to get this put up and find time to get by the bakery for the cake…

She stopped at the end of the hall and stared a moment at the cake sitting on the table.

"Hey babe," a familiar voice greeted from behind and Liz turned, finding Tom exiting their bedroom, still toweling his hair off from a shower. He looked exhausted , the bags under his eyes more pronounced and, if the healing cuts on his face were anything to go by, he had downplayed just how much trouble he'd gotten himself into recently.

He gave her a sheepish smile. "I should have called or texted, but I didn't want to jinx it before I was on the plane and by the time I landed I kind of wanted to surprise you. Surprise?"

A short laugh escaped her as she dropped the bags and covered the space between them, the irritation pushed aside to make room for the relief at seeing him there. She wrapped her arms around his middle and she felt him melt into the hug. He pulled her in, long fingers running through her hair as they held onto each other, the only thing finally startling them out of the moment Agnes' high pitched squeal to get their attention.

Liz reluctantly released her husband, who was grinning now as he moved to scoop Agnes out of her stroller. He picked her up and pressed a long kiss to her chubby cheek, pulling a giggle from her and a smile from, which made it difficult for her to risk shattering the moment. "Tom," she said quietly. "What happened? Why couldn't you tell me on the phone?"

His smile faded at that and he held Agnes just a little closer, bouncing her and hugging on her like he might never put her back down. Liz knew the feeling. She'd barely been able to take her eyes off their little girl after that month away from her, even if she'd only had a couple of hours with her then. From the look on his face, Tom knew his visit was limited. The chaos that had taken him to New York wasn't over yet.

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes and he shifted Agnes in his arms. "Kat still hasn't woken up. She was stabbed twice and the local cops have linked it to a John Doe they found dead in his hotel room. Room was booked user a false name and they're still trying to track down his real name. Nez and I have been looking into it, but…" Agnes made a sound that drew his attention and he smiled for her, even if it wasn't as bright as she usually pulled out of him. "Kat gave me a jump drive when she showed up. It's a bunch of financial records that I'm working through as quietly as possible."

"You don't want Howard knowing," Liz breathed, the tightness in his expression confirming it. "You think your mom was set up?"

"I think it's possible. Kat said the truth was on the jump drive and that it was him."

Liz grabbed the bags from the floor and set them on the table to start sorting through. "Could be the John Doe."

"Could be. Could be the John Doe was working for someone."

"And you don't trust your team with that?"

Tom sighed heavily. "It's not that. It's that these guys have been through a lot. I don't want to drag them into more distrust if I don't have to, and if it isn't Howard…"

"You don't want him to know you're questioning him," Liz murmured, her hand stilling with a pink tiara halfway out of the bag. She risked a glance back to see the torn expression on her husband's face. He had so much trouble trusting people. His life hadn't made it easy, and she knew how hard it had been for him to risk the truth with her, and how much that meant from him. Now he was desperately trying to not jump to the wrong conclusion when it came to Howard's guilt or innocence, that hard-learned distrust making it difficult for him.

Tom snorted a mirthless laugh, reluctantly moving to set a squirming Agnes in her highchair. "It's not his fault I've had a bad track record."

Liz pursed her lips together, her mind racing with the new information. If Tom admitted it or not, Bill McCready had done a number on him. The man had "saved" him, as Tom had put it to her once, when he'd been on the streets as a young teen, and given him a purpose. As far as Liz could tell, it had been a very complicated relationship which Tom had thought meant more to McCready than it actually had. The older man had been fond enough of his protégé when Tom had fallen in line and continued to bring in top dollar for his organization, but the moment Tom had stepped out of line the man that had raised him had tried to put a bullet in his head. Twice. They hadn't discussed it at length, not with everything that had followed McCready's death, but she saw the conflict in his eyes on those rare occasions that it came up. Tom had cared for the man, trusted him, and he'd betrayed him deeply.

Now he was reeling at the idea of Howard doing the same. If Howard truly had set Scottie up, he'd used his son to do it. He'd taken advantage of Tom's questions and the terrible void in his life for a real father that had weighed on him since he'd become a father himself.

"Hey," Liz tried, reaching out to him and her hand found his.

He took it, trying for a smile. "Right now I just want to be here, okay? You, me, and Agnes. And the half a dozen people coming to celebrate with us."

"Is your dad coming to the party?"

Tom grimaced a little. "I invited him before all of this broke loose."

She squeezed his hand. "It's okay. Nothing's going to happen. Not at our daughter's birthday."

He nodded slowly, the stress still lingering there and she tipped on her toes, pressing a reassuring kiss against his lips. "I love you," he breathed.

"You too, and Tom? You've got us. If everything else goes to hell, Agnes and I aren't going anywhere. You trust me on that?"

A small, real smile perked his lips and he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. "We need to get this up before people starting getting hers." He reached for the tiara that Liz had left on the table. "Please tell me this one's for Ressler."

Liz flashed him a grin and rolled her eyes. "Your daddy loves to tease Uncle Don, doesn't he?" she asked Agnes and the little girl started giggling as her mom plucked the frilly tiara out of her dad's hands and put it on his head. "What do you think, sweetie? I think it's perfect."

Tom's laugh, something even he couldn't fake around her, rang in her ears as he pulled her close. She wrapped one arm around his neck, the other hand behind his head to guide him closer and into the kiss. She'd missed him, and she knew he would have to leave again, but for that moment he was there with them and no one was going to take that away. No matter how dark it got, they were each other's light and they would always find their way home.

Notes: I may have needed some fluff after the Redemption finale. I'm still not over it, but hoping that tomorrow's Blacklist episode provides at least something like an answer on the subject.